Page 24 of The Billionaire Boss and the Barista

“Well, I’m glad to see some things haven’t changed. Someone is still snarky as hell.”

He may as well have hit her. Becauseeverythinghad changed. Emma recoiled, whirling around, her instinct to leave as fast as possible.

She didn’t get far.

Mr. Moneybags stopped her with one hand, wrapping his big paw around her upper arm. “Emmy, wait. I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m not trying to mess with you. I really do just want to help.”

God save me from good Samaritans.

She pulled out of his grasp. “I’m not a charity case! If you’re looking for one, I suggest the Feeding San Diego food bank or a local women’s shelter. Also, I’m cold and would like to?—”

She stopped, nearly biting her tongue when he whipped off his coat and settled it over her shoulders.

They both froze in place. He was standing close, his hands on her shoulders.

She stared up at him, her mind going blank and very quiet—as if those dark eyes had hypnotic powers.

Emma didn’t know how long they stayed like that. Coughing, he stepped back. “Keep it,” he said hoarsely.

She looked down at the coat draped over her like a blanket. She didn’t know fashion, but she would bet the high-end wool coat dragging on the sidewalk cost more than her monthly paycheck.

He cleared his throat. “Although now that I’ve given you that, I should also give you this.”

Cradled in the man’s big hands was a tiny gray kitten. Garrett had been holding it under his coat this whole time.

The little animal protested being held out in the cold night air with a tiny angry yowl.

Emma’s lips parted. “You found him!”

Garrett stroked the furry head. “I did. He was under a little red Corvette, which I think means he loves Prince,” he addedwith a grin.

It was gone a moment later. “Prince was a singer by the way. A pretty good one.”

“Howdare you?” Emma swept out a hand. The kitten swiped at it.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry—” he began, regret stamped on each of his stupidly perfect features.

“Prince was not merelygood,” she interrupted. “He was a damn legend and an American treasure second only to Dolly Parton.”

Garrett’s expression was almost comically relieved. “Oh, thank God. You know who Prince is.”

“Yeah,” she huffed. “Music streaming services exist.”

It was at this point the kitten decided it was done being ignored. He flexed his little claws, making Garrett wince as the surprisingly sharp nails punctured the skin of his hand.

He swore under his breath, trying to dislodge the claws, but the kitten just dug them in harder.

Emma plucked the kitten out of his hands. It must have smelled him on the coat because it burrowed in against her chest and began to audibly purr.

“Oh, so it’s like that,” he said, glaring at the kitten.

The fur tickled her chin as the kitten nosed around her chest, purring like a freight train.

“Aww. You’re a perfect little sweetie, aren’t you?” she cooed, rubbing his soft fur.

“What a little traitor,” Garrett grumbled. “I gave you grade A sushi, you little jerk. And all I got was peed on.”

Emma laughed. “You fed him sushi?”

---